WEST COAST SMOKER ; weekly task, fighting lessons

[Suiteheart]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 530px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"]It had been a long, long time since Suiteheart had held a lesson on anything of her choosing. The last time she had been the teacher, she had taught several others how to play musical instruments. However, seeing as she no longer had access to anything remotely resembling an instrument (aside from her ukulele, but she was still getting used to it), she opted for something else.

Truth be told, when Rinny mentioned holding lessons on fighting as a suggestion, it had gone in one ear and out the other. Her mind had stuck on music, but as the day passed, she was being tugged in the direction of more violent means of teaching. The thoughts that plagued her mind were worrying - she wanted to kill more than she wanted to show her fellow Ascendants how to fight. She knew Aerona was clawing at the recesses of her mind, eager to gain control after sensing Genevieve's arrival. Maybe it was Suiteheart's own arrogance speaking, but she knew she could keep the murderous femme fatale at bay long enough to teach her band of pacifists to defend themselves (from her if need be).

Forcing these troublesome thoughts away, Suite strolled into the Grand Circle. "Hey, Ascendants." she called, "I'll be teaching a lesson on fighting. I know our group, like, doesn't do much of that, but it's good to learn. Feel free to watch and participate." She waited a beat before adding, "Lessons'll be outside." And with that, the ivory feline padded out of the Observatory to one of the larger open spaces to wait. 

[madster]

meri was the first to approach, looking at the cosmic general. so this was the second in command? he could tell- she stood posed, dignified. a strong woman for sure. he was reminded of his own mother in her, and he gritted his teeth. what a loser he was. he was nothing but a runaway.

she announced she was teaching fighting, and the boy's ears perked up. fighting? he could admit he was pretty weak, but he did have to fend off the occasional animal on his journey. he followed her outside of the observatory. "i'll.. participate," he said, relaxing his shoulders and looking up at her expectantly.

[Roy Mustang]

Roy considered himself to be well experienced in fighting. His experience mostly came from his time in the military, especially during the Ishbal Civil War. During the civil war, and after, Roy was a State Alchemist in Amestris. Like the other State Alchemists during the war, he was used as a human weapon. He was used in mass extermination, Roy quickly got used to the smell of burning bodies when his orders were given. The smell at first was horrible, as who would want to smell a burning corpse? But now, Roy can barely be bothered by it, even when others feel sick to their stomachs at the scent. The last body Roy burned was Maes, as Roy decided to cremate his friend rather than bury him into the ground after his death. Roy wasn't able to bury Maes, he wasn't able to watch him go six feet underground again. Going through with the cremation became easier when the smell didn't bother him. While Roy mostly relies on his flame alchemy, he can fight without it. There are times when his flame alchemy is useless- when his gloves(or now mutated claws) are wet. When wet, his claws can't make a spark.

Suiteheart quickly grabbed Roy's attention. After he lost his leg, Roy hasn't fought. He had to spend time allowing his leg to heal, and let Rin and Rad redress his wound and re-banadage it as much as they could. But now, it was fully healed, and the attention from Rin and Rad aren't needed as often. Roy believed this was a great chance to get some practice, and a refresher in fighting. He also hoped this will grab other people's attention- as Suiteheart mentioned, this clan is mostly full of pacifists. It made Roy think back to his sparring session, when the late Seraph refused to participate against a clanmate for practice.

Roy made his way out of the observatory, following the scent of Suiteheart. The Flame Alchemist padded in after Merihem, a new member that Roy didn't recognize. He glanced at him for a moment, before locking his gaze on the Cosmic General. He's sure that Suiteheart knows without a doubt, that Roy Mustang will be participating. "I'm participating," Roy declared, with a flick of his ear.

[★ HAZEL]

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★  I NEVER HAD NOBODY TOUCH ME LIKE I’M G L A S S WITH A MOON BIRD KISS

...Fighting. Hazel had near completely forgotten about combat with her lack of knowledge in foreign relations. Still, she supposed it had always been a dreaded concept in the back of her mind, knowing that one day she might have to draw blood from another. The shudder that slid down her spine at the thought was undoubtedly one of weakness, but Hazel wasn’t ready for that yet. Hell, she could hardly handle little touches as it was. The anomaly of her letting Bastille hug her was a trip between her panic attack and the creation of the bond, rendering Hazel so confused and turned around she’d latched on to the first thing she could touch, letting it ground her.

She wouldn’t be useful in this, anyway. Margaery had already approached her with the concept of defense training, and Hazel had turned it down, knowing that while it was for her benefit, she just...wasn’t ready.

Or you’re just a useless baby, but. What do I know? The voice in her head sighed, leering. Hazel ignored her words physically, but could feel the self depreciation seep into her bones anyway, fitting itself snugly next to her drained energy. “I’ll...just watch, if that’s okay, Suite.” Hazel mumbled to the white feline, ducking her head. Hopefully she could at least have the stomach to watch.

★ — hazel — "speech" — eight months — the ascendants — tags — ★

[sup]c) miithers[/sup]

[arcy]

♡ Caboose used to know how to fight. It wasn't really anything hand to hand -- it was more weaponry and guns and that was all when he had hands, anyways. Caboose used to be, was, pretty strong though! Everybody else said so! But. He didn't have hands anymore. And ... he tripped a lot now. It was weird. New. Caboose didn't mind though, it was just adjusting. He liked everybody here, even if he didn't really know what they were saying a lot of the time. But that was normal.
Anyways, Caboose isn't quite certain how he found himself over here and right now. He blinks rather dumbly as he peers up at the white cat-person-thing. Le ... ssons? Training? It was training? Or was it? Oh, Caboose wasn't sure about that. He may have had a basic grasp on military stuff but he hadn't ever trained or anything before. Or. Not for a long time, at least. This doesn't stop Caboose from being pulled along with the crowd as he absently wanders forwards, tail half-way wagging and mind just ... completely blank. Nothing new. He snaps out of it once people start talking again though, blinking between them with his helmet swinging awkwardly. Participating? In what? Oh, this.
"Ooh!! Ooh!! I'll join in!!" Swinging back to excitement with his call back to ... existence or something, Caboose perks up, tail wagging. What would they be doing? Caboose isn't sure he'll understand or even if he'll pull it off correctly, but it's not like that was exactly running through his head right now. Mostly it was just an abrupt transformation from 'do i really want to do this' to 'sounds exciting'!!! It ... wasn't very hard to get him involved in something. At all. He probably could just participate, but what was the fun in that?? He just sat on the sidelines for enough things and it made him sad. "What ... what'll we be doing?" Voice quieting, Caboose continues bouncing on his pawpads, seemingly unaware that Suiteheart would be explaining it in her own time. That or Caboose had already forgotten what was going on. Either was pretty likely. He had the attention span and memory of a goldfish. Honestly, he was more invested in the people and fun than whatever lessons would be going on. Whether or not he'd even manage a spar or anything was questionable -- was it even a good idea? Caboose might lose focus. Or he might end up seriously hurting someone just because the concept of friendly fire or gentle-ness-ness isn't really a thing to him. It'd never went bad in the past! Well, not as far as Caboose cares, at least.

[guts]

[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]Like Caboose, Church had known how to fight at one point. Well, maybe not with guns, since he had an awful aim. But in other areas, he was pretty good, acceptable at least in military terms. Now, though, he was just stuck in a body he had now fucking idea how to operate. It was frustrating, both that and not knowing what had happened to him for certain. How had they gotten here? He knew he had died, but usually he just became a ghost again. Speaking of which, how did he die when he was just a spirit? So many questions with no answers. He was grasping at straws.

Trotting up onto the scene, he glances at his companion, rolling his eyes behind his helmet. At least he was still as dumb as a rock. It gave Church a sense of familiarity, having his teammate around, though it was unfortunate he had to endure his obliviousness again. Unfortunately Tucker probably would have been just as insufferable. He had, after all, been graced with two idiots for his team. (Too bad he wasn't much better himself.)

He takes a seat and regards the others with wary eyes, still unsure how to feel about his 'clan-mates' or whatever. He still really didn't understand the whole clan thing, and with all his time in the military, he liked to just think of them as his new team. It was a lot easier than adjusting to the new terms and what not. "Hey, I'll join in, I guess," he says, then falls silent as he waits for explanations and orders.

"SPEECH"

[Suiteheart]

[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 530px; min-height: 9px; font-family:; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; padding: 20px"][i didn't proofread this because i'm lazy so if it's a mess, i'm so sorry]

The first to arrive was Merihem. Suiteheart had met him at the border, if she remember correctly (honestly, her head was so jumbled up from receiving years upon years of memories that she wasn't entirely sure). Still, she knew he was a newcomer. She was excited for his participation in this.

The new arrival was Roy, and she found herself smiling at big brighter. Roy was one of her best friends, and she could have fun when she was around him. They were sort of partners in crime, if she did say so herself. And in this situation, he was a skilled fighter. At the same time, however, he would finally be getting to practice fighting techniques while missing one leg.

Hazel stepped forward following Roy, and she smiled gently at her golden girl. She noted Hazel's slight unease at the situation, and she recalled their conversation from a few days ago. She felt a tugging at her chest - guilt? sadness? - for Hazel. The poor girl had experienced more than anyone her age ought to, and the Ecliptic Admiral completely understood why Haze would want to sit this one out. "That's perfectly fine, Hazel. Ifya have any questions about what's happening, feel free to ask 'em since you're still technically participating."

Caboose padded up next, and Suiteheart was glad to see him as well. The sweet canine was a bit flighty, but she couldn't help but like him. He was amusing to watch hop around in childlike excitement. As she watched him weave through the gathered crowd, she sensed Hyacinth, her most kid-like soul, rising, clearly intrigued by Caboose.

Her eyes flickered to Church, who arrived but seconds after all the rest. Like most in attendance, he was new as well. He had joined the group just after Caboose, and it had been more than obvious they had been connected in some way. She wondered how that might play out on the battlefield. Whatever the case, she figured it would be interesting for sure.

"Alright, Merihem, Roy, Caboose, and Church," the white feline began, naming each participant in turn, "we're going to start with the basics." She took a few steps to the left before moving right, slowly, and then back again. Suiteheart had a nasty habit of pacing whenever she was teaching.

"First thing's first about fighting: you gotta have a good stance." She stopped her movements and faced the five gathered. She then crouched just slightly with feet firmly planted on the ground. "It's always good to have a lower center of gravity too, because that means its harder for others to throw you off balance. Why doesn't everyone try, huh?"

[Margaery]

[color=#b14767] ❁  ❁  ❁

Genevieve’s arrival certainly had thrown a wrench in things, hadn’t it?

She could sense Suiteheart’s rising tension, could feel Aerona attempting to claw her way to the surface and once more be reunited with her, with her partner in crime. As awful as it was of her to do so, Genevieve had decided to not relinquish control until Aerona made what certainly would be her stunning debut within the Ascendants. The other girl was murderous, terrible, and self centered but she also served as the closest thing to a friend that Margaery- no, Genevieve had ever had. Was she really being selfish if all she wanted was someone who understood her back? She didn’t think so, but then again, her view on the world was skewed terribly. Then again, Margaery was silent on the matter, her protests and wails practically nonexistent anymore. Either she had given up or realized that perhaps she had wronged Genevieve to some degree.

Either way, Genevieve wasn’t complaining.

But right, back to the task at hand: making Suiteheart as uncomfortable as possible. It wasn’t a necessarily difficult task but at the same time, it wasn’t very easy either. Sometimes she’d succeed in unnerving her wife and other times, she simply ignored her. Hopefully, the former would occur today. She needed to weaken Suite enough to allow Aerona a fleeting chance at conscious freedom. Simple enough if she wielded her classic Genevieve charm which, reflecting upon it, wasn’t charm at all.

[color=#b14767]”Hello, darlings,” She bummed upon arrival, an unfeeling smirk twisting her chocolate hued lips, [color=#b14767]”Fighting lessons? How terribly bland. Then again, we do live among a bunch of violence-hating pacifists, don’t we?” There was a pause as she contemplated those who were present, scouring Margaery’s memories for a basic understanding of them. [color=#b14767]”I suppose I’ll just sit this one out, I’m too good of a fighter to be coached by someone like Suiteheart.”

[| AGENT WASHINGTON |]

Fighting was what made a soldier. Growing up in a world that was nothing but sunken into a war would obviously mean that Washington didn't exactly know the meaning of peace in the end. There was nothing but violence, bloodshed, and loyalty to the squad that one would be placed in. In a squad, anyone should be willing to lay down their life for one another without any sort of hesitation. The Freelancer knew that fairly quickly during the few times that he was allowed to lead a squad against insurrectionists that were on the planet. He almost didn't even grow up on Earth for that very long. Instead, he was placed onto a new planet where he was able to go up the ranks. Being promoted to Corporal meant that he was somewhat important to the team that he was on, and they were going up against the covenant during the Great War. He was a great shot and rarely ever missed. He was precise, and that's what other's ended up knowing about him in the future. However, at one point his squad had nearly all been killed, but he was able to save them. At the point of refusing his order from his Sergeant and injuring him so that they could all get away and the rest of the platoon would listen to him.

It was a hard decision to make, but at that time he wasn't willing to watch everyone that he worked with die at his feet. Agent Washington did hold a grudge against the Alien race that had indeed killed his friends, but he was never given a chance to seek out revenge. Instead, once they got back, he was immediately court-martialed for not listening to his Sergeants order and injuring a fellow officer during duty. It was a hard pill to swallow, but Washington was stubborn and believed that everything that he did had been for the right. He didn't care what other's knew about him, and that had been where Project Freelancer realized that he could become an asset to them. After a while, he was psychologically interviewed by the Counselor himself. He had researched a little bit on the Project itself and thought the idea was actually quite useful. Humans were losing the war, which he had witnessed first hand on that mission with his platoon. But since he was court-martialled, it meant that if anything bad ever happened to him, no one would come looking for a washout like himself.

He was expendable. Just like everyone else in Project Freelancer ultimately ended up being. He still wasn't sure what the organization saw in the likes of him. Yeah, he was a good shot, but he wasn't great compared to North who managed to use sniper rifles like they were nothing. He only had a battle rifle, but he was damn good with it. He also wasn't the best fighter either. That would belong to Carolina. In other words, he was the worst of the best in the Project. Which meant that he was still more than capable of holding his own once he had just this experimental project dealing mostly with AI. Was Joining the project the best thing that he had done in his life? Probably not. Especially with the situation, he was in now and the betrayal that he could feel constantly pressing down on his spine. He only wished the project had been what they had put on their brochures, instead of hiding the secrets that they held.

Now that he was in this world though, he was pretty sure that his fighting would become average compared to everyone else. Trust his instincts is one of the main aspects that he would probably follow first. Even if someone was capable of attacking the lion-sized animal, his armor being impossible to break through with just physical means. He was lucky to get more armor than Caboose and Church did. Although he thought that both of them wouldn't be able to make much use out of it in the end. The smilodon had figured out that they were simulation troopers. Making his life a whole lot difficult because they wouldn't be any more help. At least there wasn't another Freelancer around, as there would be no way he would just work with another from the project. In fact, he would probably try to kill them if it was another Freelancer.

Church would probably enjoy watching two Freelancer's trying to kill each other. Either way, Agent Washington felt like there was more to this group than he initially saw, and e had been right when Suiteheart called others over to train themselves. He wasn't going to join of course, as that would be giving too much away. He liked to train by himself, which was both good and bad. The armored smilodon would make his way over, his gold eyes glancing at unfamiliar faces and Caboose and Church. He was surprised that Church had even volunteered to do anything like this. An amused huff escaping his jaws as he heard someone talking about how no one here was willing to fight. Wait really? The soldier side of him was telling him that everyone should be prepared to fight anyone.

Although this place wasn't exactly stuck in a war compared to the one that they came from. Agent Washington sat off to the side, giving a good amount of distance from him and everyone else. "Fighting is a means for survival. Those that aren't willing to fight are just asking to get themselves seriously injured or killed." The Freelancer would speak in a strategic tone. To really no one in particular. If this was a training session, where was everyone else? There seemed to be too few animals around considering how active this place was. The thought confused him, and a frown spread across his facial features, hidden underneath his helmet that he always wore. If he was in charge of this, he would have already started to punish those that were here and make sure that those that didn't attend were given a stern talking to, and punished as well. There were of plenty methods of motivation after all. "speech"

[glow=black,2,300]— ✘ —[/glow]

Tags | Updated 06/26/18:

GENERAL:
★ AGENT WASHINGTON | WASH, WASHINGTON, DAVID | MALE
★ Heterosexual
★ 3 years | Birthday | Ages realistically
★ Ascendants |  Regular member | Freelancer, Former Human

IMPORTANT FACTS:
★ Agent Washington always wears his armor and never takes it off. Which means no one knows what his face actually looks like.
★ He hates being called any sort of nickname, preferring for his full name to be used when addressing him. He will constantly state so, as its just how he's used to being talked to.
★ Agent Washington suffers from insomnia and auditory/visual hallucinations. 
★ The armor that he wears is extremely tough, there are some spaces in between the armor, but if someone were to hit his armor it would not break.
★ Due to his experience when he was a human, he prefers working alone and not counting on others to help him in a bad situation.
★ Washington will not trust your character. No matter how nice they are. He will not tell them anything until getting to know them.
★ His current goal is to turn himself back into a human, as he doesn't want to be a cat forever. Because of this goal, he is less likely to offer assistance to the groups.

RECENT EVENTS (oldest-recent):
★

PHYSICAL:
★ AMORED SLATE GREY SMILODON FATALIS [birth/main] | health: 100% | Reference.
580lbs. Agent Washington is a species of Smilodon, roughly the size of a lion. Washington is different compared to most Smilodons due to the strange coloration of his fur. That being a dark slate grey compared to the regular tawny of a simple smilodon. There are faint spots that are visible around his back legs, but only when the light hits it in a specific way. Not only that, but Agent Washington wears titanium alloy armor, making it extremely durable for taking hits and can be used as a means of bashing an enemy. The armor color itself is slightly lighter than that of his actual fur color. He wears a chest plate, that covers his chest and half of his back. Then there are shoulder plates that cover his shoulders and his arms protecting the front half of his body. There is a gap between the shoulder plate and the rest of the arm plate of his armor. His shoulder plate is a yellow, making it stand out from the slate grey armor he wears. Washington also wears a Spartan Helmet resembling that seen in the Halo series. The visor is a reflective gold and having a yellow line going down the middle of the helmet. While he wears armor, one doesn't notice the extreme amount of scars that cover his body, that has transferred from the time that he was a human. Scars ranging from those made by knives, bullets, and blunt trauma. Since his armor doesn't cover the lower half of his body (flank, and back legs), several scars can be seen uncovered in that area. Even though no one has seen his face, if someone were to see his face, his eyes are a deep gold color with blue wrapping around his pupil. The blue is a result of the trauma from a failed AI implantation when he was human. There is a scar on the back of his neck that branches out almost like a lightning bolt, and its barely visible as his helmet hides the majority of said scars. Being a Smilodon means that he has long incisors, but it seems for some reason someone had filed down his incisors, making them useless unless he can put enough force into the blow. However, since he wears his helmet, its impossible for him to use his fang to attack. Leaving his powers and paws as the only offensive means.
- major injuries: none
- minor injuries: none

PERSONALITY:
Once being immature, goofy, and charismatic, Washington was changed completely after the implantation of a computer inside of his head that nearly caused him his death. He is a soldier and hasn't been anything but a soldier in his life, making sure to follow the rules as much as possible. He believes loyalty is everything, and unless given a reason to he will not betray anyone. He is extremely serious and will work himself to exhaustion before trying to relax. Thinking that he must be prepared for everything that will be thrown at it. He prefers to be alone, but that just puts more stress on his head due to the factor that his mental stability is almost nonexistent. Washington is an expert when it comes to regular military strategies, and he almost knows nothing of the clans and how they work. In his mind, he is only on an alien planet and they potentially did something to him. He knows that he needs to get back to the project once the ship had crashed, but now he is actually in a different world. His only plan is to figure out a way to find his goal, and if that means he has to kill anyone in his way to get the information he will do just such. Washington suffers from different lapses of hallucinations and this can be easy for him to snap toward others in a violent manner. Being a soldier, if all else fails he will use violence at his full extent.

RELATIONSHIPS:
★ Single | 1/2 nothing
★ NPC x NPC | Generation 1 | No mentor

POWERS:
★ Electricity Elementals (Not Discovered)
★ Air Elementals (Not Discovered)
★ Earth Elementals (Not Discovered)
★ Fire Elementals (Not Discovered)
★ X-Ray vision (Not Discovered)
★ Teleportation (Not Discovered)

INTERACTION:
★ Message this account to plot
★ Extremely hard to befriend
★ Physically extreme | Mentally easy | Training constantly
★ Will start fights, and will finish them quickly
★ Attack in by tagging account
★ Cannot powerplay peaceful or nonviolent actions. ALL OPINIONS ARE IC

[BASTILLEPAW]

I'LL BE GOOD, I'LL BE GOOD

There were few things that made Bastille truly happy, and high up on that list was combat. It didn't matter how he got it; he just needed the singing of adrenaline in his veins, the crystal clarity of a fight, the knowledge that he knew exactly what he was doing and that he was good at it. Everything slowed down in the midst of battle, and for once, Bastille could be absolutely certain that his souls were not going to act up or throw everything out of alignment. If anything, he felt a greater sense of serenity, Echo's memories of training filtering through his own as easily as breathing. It was... peaceful, in a strange way, and he was relieved to have another opportunity to get his blood moving. He was tired as all hell, but the shaking from that morning had stopped and he hadn't thrown up yet today. Shit was looking slightly better.

His gaze locked on Hazel as he joined them, and he scowled slightly at her words. Ironically, he was immediately reminded of Starry in that moment, too. Then, he'd said nearly the same thing as Wash did in that moment, insisting that Starry of all people had to be able to defend himself, no questions asked. He'd forced the Seraph to spar him then, if only by attacking him, but-- but he couldn't do that to Hazel. Not with her fear of contact. Not when she was already half afraid of him anyway. His gaze was still on her for a beat as he warred with the knowledge that she should could be endangering herself by refusing and endangering herself by participating, and eventually he looked away, towards Suite. "I'm in, too."

[align=center]BASTILLEPRISONER — ASTRAL SERAPH — TAGS